


Suicide By Pilot

by Dr_Z



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amortentia, Blood and Gore, Brownies, Creature Harry Potter, F/F, F/M, Fanfiction of Fanfiction, Ginny Weasley Bashing, Injury, M/M, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Master of Death (Harry Potter), Master of Death Harry Potter, Molly Weasley Bashing, Morally Grey Harry Potter, Murder, Necromancer Harry Potter, Necromancy, Powerful Harry Potter, Sane Tom Riddle, Slytherin Harry Potter, Time Travel Fix-It, Time Turner (Harry Potter), Tom Riddle | Voldemort Adopts Harry Potter, Torture, Veela Draco Malfoy, Violence, Wendigo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29020944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Z/pseuds/Dr_Z
Summary: Just an idea I had from reading How Fate Intended by hoboheartache. They just posted chapter 61, and the fic is over 180,000 words with regular updates. It's amazing you should DEFINITELY check it out.If you have read the aforementioned fic: this is basically a rewrite of chapter 61 and the death/murder that occurs. I have no intention of continuing with the plot beyond that, just wanted to write some gory scenes for once. I hope you enjoy it!
Relationships: Daphne Greengrass/Blaise Zabini, Death & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy & Theodore Nott & Harry Potter & Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Luna Lovegood & Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood/Theodore Nott, Tracey Davis & Daphne Greengrass
Comments: 25
Kudos: 48





	1. A Blundered Baptism

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hoboheartache](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoboheartache/gifts).
  * Inspired by [How Fate Intended](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27799261) by [hoboheartache](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoboheartache/pseuds/hoboheartache). 



> The sentences at the beginning ~in italics~ are taken verbatim from chapter 61 of How Fate Intended by hoboheartache.

> _~Back in Hogwarts, a tall boy jerked up from where he sat at an old desk, tinkering away deep underground. Looking skyward, Harry searched for the feeling that had disturbed his concentration with narrowed eyes. There was something strange going on, a shift in familiar magic that he could just barely place._
> 
> _“Death.”_
> 
> _“Hm?”_
> 
> _“Has Blaise done something?”_
> 
> _The god picked up the nearest vial of golden liquid, observing it with mild interest. “Now what could ever bring you to that conclusion?”_
> 
> _Harry narrowed his eyes further, “I feel something different, and I can't explain how so it must be your fault. Now spill.”_
> 
> _“Hmmm… it seems your connection to death is growing, I hadn’t expected you to be able to feel your friend commit a murder so early in your life. Interesting.”_
> 
> _The tall boy rose, gathering up scattered pieces of parchment as the god leaned back against the ancient walls. “So that’s what those two were planning... I should have asked to help out.”_
> 
> _“You would’ve taken the fun out of it.”~_

“Well,” Harry said, reaching under his shirt and fingering the chain, “Not like I still can’t.”

“I almost forgot about that,” Death said nonchalantly.

Harry’s fingers worked in skilled tandem, face nonchalant and bored as ever, before he disappeared.

“I should really stop betting against Fate,” Death said, checking to make sure there was nothing in his teeth. “She does not play fair.”

* * *

> _~Blaise took a deep breath, he had a little less than a month till February first, and he was feeling the full effects of waiting so long. There was a constant wriggling in his stomach, as if snakes were writhing around inside of his organs. Sharp pains he likened to snake bites stung at his lungs and heart, creating a constant burn as he breathed or ran. He felt agonized on most days, and near the brink of death on others._
> 
> _“Hannah?”_
> 
> _He stiffened, a cheap invisibility cloak he stole from his mother’s closet before leaving slung over his shoulders and head moving with him. He didn't think that the letter would actually work, but Daphne had been insistent that Parkinson was positive that Finch-Fletchley had a crush on Hannah Abbott, so a love letter was sent off in the hopes that it would lure the boy out to the secluded spot, allowing Blaise to do the deed without the worry of prying eyes._
> 
> _Justin Flinch-Fletchley shut the door behind himself, a precast charm Daphne had cast on the door a half hour prior springing into being, locking the door and fogging all the windows so that no one could look out and see anything but vague shapes. He held the ritual dagger tightly in his hand, knuckles white and breathing uneven.~_

There was a numbing sensation in his chest, like he’d angered a playful serpent wrapped around him into ruthlessly stealing his breath. His bones shifted, the pain blinding even as adrenaline filled his blood like the best kind of drug. He felt an exhale on the back of his neck, and shivered in anticipation as he imagined a mouth of shining, white teeth revealed as lips pulled back in a growl. Furious, ready to bite, to _clamp down and tear him apart—_

Flinch-Fletchley jumped as a black shadow seem to move _through_ the locked and concealed windows, sliding around the complex enchantments like melted butter. The owl spread its wings wide, it’s green-gold eyes staring unerringly intelligently at a point above Blaise’s head. Blaise _sensed_ more than heard the growl, the magic in the atmosphere becoming brusque and tense. The pressure around his lungs eased a little, and Blaise struggled to contain his howl of agony even as anger came crashing down on him.

“ **Quiet** **.** ”

Gentle strokes on his head soothed him, even as his broken ribs crackled with every tiny breath he dared to take. He closed his eyes as the touch continued down his face, and then it tightened to a fierce grip on his chin. Blood pooled in his mouth.

“Brownies,” Flinch-Fletchley muttered. Blaise’s eyes shot open to watch as a dazed impression crossed over the boy’s faced, a piece of parchment fluttering elegantly out of his hands. He blinked, and instantaneously became the same eager boy who had scrambled into the compartment in the first place. He looked around once more, in vain hope, before his face crumpled. A few seconds of rather unattractive snivelling later, and the boy turned on his heel and marched out of the compartment.

And Blaise? Blaise was useless, defeated by his pain. Worst of all, Loki had left him, leaving him aching for the god’s magic. He clutched desperately at his ribs as he spat, the ugly clots landing on the floor with a gory _squelch_. He coughed, and wiped his face, smearing the red all over his mouth.

“ _Fuck_ you, Harry.”


	2. God v. Monster

Draco was going mad. No, everyone _else_ was going mad, and Draco was cursed with being the only one left with some semblance of common sense. Theo was reading as could be expected at any given time, except that he was intently studying a crisp copy of the latest _The Quibbler_. ‘Blue Bloods Breed Bootlickers’ screamed the headline. Literally. Greengrass had silenced it during the carriage ride, perhaps the most worthwhile action she had every performed in her pathetic life. Even though she had done it so she could continue ranting at him about the devil-cursed glitter she couldn’t get out of her trunk (Haha!). She got her revenge almost immediately, however, as it appeared she had managed to corrupt Tracey. The two girls had sat together in sync, and been whispering all throughout dinner.

Blaise was another matter entirely. Draco had never seen him so silent; after having gone to the toilet for a really long time, and returned to their train compartment just as they reached Hogwarts, he’d spent the carriage ride hugging himself and chanting underneath his breath. He was now huddled across from Draco, looking pained. Poor guy must be extremely constipated—it had to be all the stress of his pledge. It had been affecting his sleep, and now it was impinging on his reproductive system. Blaise crumpled a little more in front of Draco’s very eyes, nostrils flaring for the briefest second, as his hand dropped below the table. Greengrass looked up and glared at Harry.

“Something to say, Greengrass?”

Greengrass’s face immediately relaxed into neutrality. Harry shifted in his seat, one of his long legs pressing against Draco’s. He flinched immediately, dislodging Theo, who only grunted and continued reading. Harry didn’t look away from his staring contest with Greengrass, dragging his cup to his lips, seemingly unaware of the way the silver ring caught the light and shone. There was deep contentment in Draco’s chest, increasing with the unsteady beats which thumped under his skin; an emotion Draco found himself afraid to name.

The rest of dinner passed in relative silence. As they were dismissed, Greengrass walked straight into Harry’s path fiercely. Harry merely took a step back and cocked his head. “I demand an explanation.” She hissed, somehow managing to raise the edge of her lips and look appropriately bored even as she spit furiously.

Tracey looked a little startled. Theo sighed, and took her by the arm, distracting her automatically. They followed the rest of the Slytherins down to the dungeons. Draco looked at their retreating backs, and then at Harry and Daphne, the latter of whom was still engaging in murderous eye-torture, and then at Blaise, who seemed moments away from collapse.

“Wot the fok is going on?” he muttered to himself, feeling an overwhelming sense of _doom_ flood his veins. This was all Harry’s fault—if he needn’t stretch so indulgently right next to him, Draco’s mind not have melted. His Malfoy observation had been defeated by Harry Potter and his stupidly long limbs and smart mouth and—

Greengrass turned on him immediately. “You needn’t dawdle where you are nonessential, Malfoy. If Blaise nor Harry found it amenable to confide in you—”

“ **No.** ”

Behind Harry, Blaise flinched. Greengrass stared at him in horror. His entire demeanour had changed, body no longer relaxed but taut as the string of a drawn bow; the air was cold and silent. It became just how _alone_ they were, with this unpredictable, powerful _creature_. Greengrass gulped. (So did Draco, but for a totally different reason. His tongue was just so dry, and he felt a little dizzy. He should have drunk a second goblet of water, god _damn_ it).

“Something to say, Greengrass?” Harry repeated.

Greengrass looked at Blaise, and something in her stiffened. “ _Look_ at him,” she implored, voice low, “”Look what you’ve done.”

Harry looked at her for a second longer, like a cat curiously observing the strange habits of its owner. He turned to look at Blaise, and the chill dropped out of the air.

“Allow us our privacy, please,” was all he said, before grabbing Blaise by the collar and pushing him backward.

Greengrass only managed a splutter, before the cold rose with excessive force, and the two tall boys seemed to disappear. And Draco was left with Greengrass a few feet away from the north staircase, more confused than he could ever remember being. Could this situation become any worse?

Yes, yes it _absolutely_ could. Because Draco recognised those footsteps, that furious cadence against the stone floor ignited many a children memory. But Draco was no longer a chubby child, cackling carelessly as he hid behind his godfather’s couch.

There was an acerbic _swish_ of a cloak: “Draco Lucius Malfoy.”

* * *

“What’s going on, Blaise?” Harry demanded. Blaise stumbled, and staggered the last few steps to lean heavily against the wall, breathing sluggishly. Harry smelt blood and disease flesh, and the air _sang_ like the aura surrounding a warrior’s homecoming feast.

Blaise gagged, and shook his head. There was rush of pressure in his ears; then he was blinking, dizzy, as hot fluid squirted down his lips. He raised his arm slowly, feeling like he was pulling back against a larger force as he wiped his nose. The blood glowed on the black robes. “I failed,” he said thickly, around his mouthful of blood, “Because of you.”

Harry crowded him, his pupils widening, until the green was swallowed by unfathomable black. Blaise couldn’t quite summon up the energy to be afraid, even as Harry arched his back, lowering his nose to sniff along his neck like a predator. He froze, and felt his breath slow, uncaring of the danger, just wishing for the pain to _stop._

There was a cold palm on his neck. The ice spread under his skin, more comfortable than anything, a reassurance of his continued existence. He could almost feel the disease halting in its tracks, the ruptured organs healing as the cells were forced into healing, almost as if… Harry was performing _black magic_ and bringing them back to life.

Blaise found he was able to open his eyes. He was rather proud he managed not to be scared witless when he was Harry’s face centimetres away from his own. His eyes were now closer to their original green than an unstaring abyss, although his jaw shook like something was writhing under his skin.

“Harry?” Blaise slurred, muscles almost loose with lack of pain.

“That should buy you some time,” Harry said to himself, awkwardly bringing a hand to Blaise’s shoulder and patting it. Blaise felt himself yielding into the contact.

There was a breath on the back of his neck, Blaise acknowledged sleepily, smiling as his eyes insisting on closing, even as he forced them open again. He was pulled forward into a cold embrace, a growl rumbling over his head even as a furious hand tore down his back.

And then he fell asleep.

* * *

“Hello, Professor,” Harry said, carrying Blaise in his arms easily. The stench of blood was strong, and Harry’s robes were rather dishevelled. The two of them were covered in petals and Harry has a few leaves in his hair. “Perfect timing, as always.”

“Mr. Potter, what in Salazar’s name—?”

“Blaise was attacked.” Harry said. “I don’t know who or why, but I stopped the curse just in time. He’ll be fine, just needs sleep. I could do with some sleep too.”

Silence.

“Professor?”

“Did you see Black?” Professor Snape said, upon snapping his jaw shut. “Did he say anything to you?”

“I didn’t see Black, or any other wizard. Or witch.” Harry added, at Greengrass’ sharp look.

“But the dementors—” Draco protested.

“Why would a man who escaped Azkaban be unable to outsmart dementors?” Greengrass retorted.

“By all means,” Harry drawled, “Continue with your theories, but if we could _also_ make our way to the hospital wing…”

“Pass him to me,” Snape gestured with his wand, “I’ll use wingardium leviosa.”

“I’ll pass,” Harry said, clutching his friend closer, “I’ve got him.”

“Potter for _all_ the—fine!” Snape turned, his robes flaring dramatically. “Miss. Greengrass, Mr. Malfoy, you may as well follow us. I’m sure Headmaster Dumbledore would also appreciate hearing your account also.”

They must’ve might quite the sight, Draco thought abstractly as he hurried to follow Professor Snape’s rather large stride. A flustered potions master, followed by a long-legged teen easily carry another long-legged teen, and two blondes rushing to catch up. And he still had no idea as to what was going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some food-for-thought:
> 
> Necromancy: the Dark Art of raising the dead e.g., the creation of Inferi and Charmed skeletons, as well as Zombies. "[Necromancy is] a branch of magic that has never worked" -Albus Dumbledore
> 
> Source: https://harrypotter.fandom.com/wiki/Necromancy


	3. Hook, line and sinker

Blaise was having the best sleep of his entire existence. He was never one for sleeping flat on his back, arms by his sides like some slumbering soldier, and yet, this pillow was so impossibly soft, and this mattress so decadent he may just never wake up. His entire being is at peace; he floats in a wonderful silence broken only by his comfortable, deep breaths—

There is something wet poking in his ear. Blaise leaps up, squirming as much as he is able, yanking his arms out of the confinement of the bedsheets. The _hospital_ bed sheets, he realises belatedly, looking at the threadbare material, and then raising his eyes to scan the bleak walls. A pair of bright green eyes peer at him. _Harry_.

“Sorry about that,” the giant says, wiping his finger on the sheets. “I needed to wake you up and fast, the castle’s going into lockdown and I figured you wouldn’t want to be trapped in here alone.”

“Understood,” Blaise says automatically, “Wait, what?!”

“Apparently Sirius Black’s been spotted in the hallways. Cue panic.”

“I, you—” Blaise didn’t know what question to begin with. He decided to free himself from the bed’s clinging embrace instead. Harry helpfully pretended not to notice when he wobbled unsteadily on his feet, looking away as Blaise held on to the wall whilst his feet remembered how to carry his bodyweight. The last time he’s breathed this easily, was—before…

“What are you two doing awake?” Madam Pomfrey fussed, walking at a severe pace, headpiece askew. 

“Are we not going to join everyone else, Madam Pomfrey?” Harry asked politely, face as blank as an angels, “I would feel safer there.”

“Well…” the medi-witch physically paused to think, lack of sleep and stress clearly taking its toll. “The two of you seem perfectly healthy, but I really would prefer to keep you for an overnight observation.”

“I must agree with Mr. Potter,” came a familiar rumble, “If there is no current threat to their health, it would be prudent to gather the entirety of the student body in the Great Hall.”

Harry snorted, but Blaise was too groggy to so much more than blink.

A series of careful, calculated footsteps bought Professor Snape into Blaise’s eyeshot. He tossed a handful of powder into the fireplace, and stepped into the green flames, silently reciting some trigger phrase. Harry followed, and Blaise scrambled after.

They exited into some alternate universe. The Great Hall was free of tables, dark and quiet: populated with groups of students huddled together in sleeping bags. Professor Snape graced them with a nod before walking toward an expectant Headmaster Dumbledore.

“Harry,” Blaise panicked quietly as they walked through the mass of bodies, looking for their friends, “What I said… what you _saw—”_

“Hufflepuff’s handled.” Harry answered swiftly. “The Trickster and I came to _an understanding!”_ the boy’s voice broke, and only Blaise’s knowledge of his close friend allowed him to see the growing tension in his shoulders.

“What was that, Harry?” Blaise said suspiciously.

“Nothing, I’m perfectly fine,” the taller boy spat out bitten gritted teeth. They spotted a familiar head of golden hair; Harry lengthened his stride, swivelling neatly like iron to a magnet. “Dad is going to kill me,” he muttered under his breath.

“ _Harry_.” Blaise exclaimed quietly, but the boy was long gone. “What the hell is he talking about?”

Unfortunately, the first-year Ravenclaws who had been unashamedly eavesdropping had no answers for him.

* * *

As always, the best time to exchange gossip was when everyone was asleep. Harry was as amenable as always, much to Draco’s ire.

“But you didn’t _really_ see Sirius Black did you?” Tracey said doubtfully. “Surely he would have attacked you on sight. He’s an _adult_ , and he escaped Azkaban.”

“All we have are rumours,”

“The Professors might be hiding something from us,” came a surprising voice.

“Neville.” Theo said politely.

“Hi, all,” Neville said happily. Susan Bones waved over his shoulder, and a sleepy Justin Finch-Fletchley completed the Hufflepuff trio. Blaise swallowed and looked away; Daphne placed a delicate hand on his and proceeded to do her best to crush the bones in his wrist.

“The Professors wouldn’t initiate a lockdown without sufficient evidence that it would be worth the effort, and the potential of students complaining to their parents, which could make its way to the Prophet and the schoolboard and cause problems for the staff. They _would_ , however, initiate a lockdown and lie about their reasoning for it in order to prevent a mass panic,” Bones said intelligently.

“I’m surprised he’s still functioning after Azkaban,” Finch-Fletchley offered.

“Maybe…” Tracey had that special glint in her eye: “He was never in Azkaban.”

Draco scoffed, and tossed himself backwards onto his pillow.

“I mean, we have no proof he was in there, besides the words of the guards!”

“Wall, I definitely haven’t heard this theory before.” Neville said politely.

“I am too tired and too hungry for conversations about conspiracy theories,” Finch-Fletchley groaned. His stomach rumbled angrily: “How do these Slytherins manage to look so perfect in the middle of the night? I’m sure I look like a zombie.”

“You’ve never been more handsome,” Bones patted his head.

“Here,” Harry pulled out a tissue-wrapped parcel. “I’ve got some leftover fudge.”

“You are a _god_ -send, Harry Potter.” The chocolate confection disappeared down Finch-Fletchley’s throat, and a look of extreme peace crossed his face. Daphne pinched Blaise’s leg.

Draco’s snoring interrupted Neville’s lecture on bearing and manners. “I guess that’s our cue to head to sleep. Pleasant dreams, everyone.” Bones said.

Harry very carefully did not smirk as he laid down in his bed. Draco immediately revolved in his sleep to cuddle into his warmth.

“Aren’t you going to fill us in?” Daphne demanded.

“Go. To. Sleep. Greengrass.” Harry retorted, voice furious and thick. Daphne adopted her pureblood mask, and pulled Tracey with her.

Blaise stared at Theo, the only other person still sitting up. Theo raised his hands in a gesture he’s learnt from Harry: “I’m not getting involved in this mess,” he said apologetically.

Blaise didn’t get much sleep. He felt the blaring absence of his god’s might like a brand on his skin.

What Blaise didn’t notice, however, was a pair of identical snakes peered curiously at their new charge.


End file.
